ABH: Alive 1/1 [BtVS, Giles/You, FRAO]
Anywhere But Here Fic: Alive 1/1
Author: GylzGirl
Written for: summer_of_giles 2009
Beta: The Awesome lauratew. Any remaining mistakes are my fault.
Rated: Fan Rated ADULTS ONLY
Alive
You're pacing the floor of Rupert Giles's living room. You cast your eyes toward the bathroom. You should go take a shower, you think. You know you must look a fright; torn clothes, sweat and streaks of graveyard dirt covering your skin. You've been fussing with your hair in your nervousness so you're sure that must look quite becoming by now as well.
You shake your head, banishing the thought. No, you can't leave the room. This is where Rupert would expect you to be. When he comes home (not if, you remind yourself, when), if he doesn't see you immediately, he might go back out into the night to look for you. No. No. You have to stay here.
You force yourself to sit on the couch and hope that you'll make it more than five minutes this time. Your eyes dart to the loft. It was only two hours ago that the pair of you were snuggled up together; warm, safe, bare and asleep. The ring of the phone ripped you both from your slumber. A cell call from Buffy that went dead halfway through pulled Rupert from the bed. As he dressed, so did you, ignoring his protests that you wait for him here.
You stand, once more treading that familiar path; banister, window, kitchen phone, door...
The night is uncharacteristically quiet, almost as if it holds its breath with you. An hour ago, the air was filled with the sounds of battle; grunts and screams and the scrape of metal meeting an equal blade. There were so many opponents, you were all matched in single combat; no one able to assist anyone else. The fight began to move you all away from each other. Buffy to the north towards Waverly Park. Willow east towards the Bronze. Xander west near the High School. Giles south to the Espresso Pump. Yourself pinned down in the middle of Restfield cemetery, watching helplessly as your allies and your lover were forced to abandon your survival to your own fighting skills as they each tried to keep themselves alive. Rupert's expression was the most pained as he faded from sight. You didn't have the opportunity at the time to dwell on it for long as you battled to slay the demon that had similar plans for you.
You've more than dwelt on it since you ran through the front door though. Rupert dead was unthinkable. Rupert dying alone and believing he'd left you to die... You eye the bathroom again wondering if you could make it there before you throw up.
Suddenly, the still night is rent with the sound of the door being kicked open and nearly off its hinges. You spin, heart hammering, mentally trying to remember the combination to the weapons chest and find Rupert Giles. He stands there, framed by the doorway, scanning the room until his eyes land on you. Instead of showing any obvious signs of relaxing, he kicks the door shut behind himself and stalks towards you. His eyes are dark and furious. You gulp and begin to shake a little. Out of instinct, you back up from his charging advance until your back hits the wall behind you. In a flash, he is right before you. He slams his palms against the wall to either side of your head making you jump in fright. You gasp and he seizes his opportunity, swooping for your mouth and taking it in a hard kiss.
After a few moments of bruising bussing, he pulls back taking a little nip at your bottom lip. You whimper at the quick flash of pain and your trembling becomes more severe. Rupert's eyes sweep the entire length of your body and seem to note every black smudge of dirt and each red angry scratch or scrape. The air goes out of his lungs and he presses to your front, his chin on your shoulder. This close, you can feel that he is shaking too.
"Oh, God," he exhales as his hands slide down the wall and his arms wrap around you. "Oh, God, I could have lost you tonight."
"You didn't," you say quietly, redundantly; embracing him as you realize his fury is not at you but at thinking you might have died. "I'm here," you whisper in his ear before your tongue slips out to flick at his lobe.
The effect is immediate as his hips thrust forward, an already prominent bulge in his trousers pressing at your heat, frustrated only by the layers of clothes between. Your lips part slightly and once more you find Rupert's mouth covering yours, his tongue invading and making your knees want to buckle.
He pulls back suddenly and, before you know what is happening, he clutches at the front of your shirt and rips it open sending buttons spraying the room. Your eyes widen in surprise. You knew the shirt was pretty much a goner with all the rips and bloodstains of the battle but you hadn't exactly expected it to wind up in two halves at your feet on the floor. While you're looking down, you notice that one of your bra straps has torn away. Things don't look good for that garment either.
Rupert's hand is warm; fingers scratchy and callused from wielding a mace earlier that evening. They scrape pleasantly against your back as he deftly unfastens your bra and sends it to join the pile on the floor. You only just manage to roughly shove his jacket to the ground and start on the buttons of his shirt before his mouth is on your breast; his tongue hot and wet as it paints zig zags on your areola. Your back arches, hands leaving his shirt front to grip behind his shoulders and hold yourself upright. Your head presses against the wall. The sounds coming from your mouth so unbelievably feline that you know Rupert will tease you about them in the morning.
His fingers tickle at the skin near your bellybutton as he tries to undo your jeans without benefit of looking. Soon enough, you hear the pop of the snap and the unmistakable ripple of the zipper being lowered. Rupert's mouth switches breasts as his hands insinuate themselves on your hips, sliding down your body underneath both your jeans and panties. With a sharp thrust of his wrists, he sends them pooling at your feet.
The cool night air catches the superheated wetness between your legs causing you to gasp at the sensation and grip Rupert closer to cover you. He moves his arms to brace your back and turns with you. Your feet twist and tangle in the clothing around your ankles and for a moment you feel like you are floating as Rupert's deceptively strong arms lower you slowly and gently to the floor. The hardwood is cold against your bare back. Your arms beckon up to him as he rises to his feet, looming over you. He begins to remove his clothing.
His shirt flutters away behind him. The practical white tank beneath yanked up and away next. His bare chest rises and falls in that deep slow pattern that you've come to associate with his arousal. As Rupert's hand moves to unfasten his fly, your thighs squeeze together to relieve some of the aching throb you feel. You pinch your bottom lip between your teeth as he shucks both trousers and boxers and his impressive cock springs free. It arches against his abdomen, curving slightly left. You exhale shakily as your own hands slide between your legs.
Rupert crouches at your feet, unwrapping them from the clothing imprisoning your ankles. He holds your heels, spreading your legs wide. You bend your knees as Rupert places your feet on the floor, positioning you exactly the way he wants you. He eases forward onto his knees and crawls toward you. His hands grasp at the back of your thighs as he lowers his face to your sex and begins to lap slowly. Your back arches off the floor though his grip keeps your hips firmly pinned down as the tip of his tongue swirls across your aching clit.
A moan leaves your throat so forcefully that you feel its burning wake and wonder if you will be hoarse tomorrow. Your hands move into your hair as your head thrashes against the sensations. Your muscles are coiling tighter as each stroke of his tongue brings you closer to release. Your thighs begin to tremble, your feet plant even more firmly into the floor; the curve of your back steepening as you scream and come hard.
Your breathing is ragged and audible as your sated body slowly lowers itself down. You can feel the start of finger-shaped bruises on your hips from Rupert restraining you. The sting is not unpleasant you think lazily, still drifting in a post-euphoric mental cloud.
You distantly become aware of Rupert's mouth kissing along one inner thigh towards the knee and then repeating the process on the other leg. Soon, you feel the weight of him settle over you; his body a flash-fire everywhere it touches yours. The hair on his chest scratches agreeably across your breasts. His kisses are warm on your neck. His hand slips between you as he guides himself to your entrance. The head has barely prodded through when he stills. You whimper in impatience and feel him smile against your skin. His arms come under you, skimming across your bare back. He hooks his hands over your shoulders from underneath. One terrifyingly exciting word echoes throughout your whole being: Leverage.
Rupert's fingers tighten against you a fraction of a second before he uses his grip to pull you onto his cock as hard as he can while he thrusts forward with equal intensity. You scream again, the sensation of him so deep inside so soon after your first orgasm pulling you into a second.
Rupert stills again as your inner thighs slide against his outer ones and rest along the swell of his ass. You slip your hands down his back and over his cheeks, gripping tightly and hanging on for the ride. You kiss and nip at the underside of his chin until his hips begin to move once more. He establishes this deep slow rhythm for what seems like ages. Your head lolls back, completely lost to the feel of him. You would probably be embarrassed at the helpless desperate whimpers you produce if you could remember what being embarrassed was. Right now, the whole world is that agonizing wonderful feeling of Rupert moving within you.
His mouth is at your ear, grunting; harsh, masculine, animal reverberations. Your lips brush his triceps and latch on, tongue lapping at the sweat-salty skin there. It sharpens and quickens his thrusts. You begin to feel that familiar tightening around his cock and the flutter of anticipation in your stomach; moaning as Rupert pushes you closer, closer.
Your fingers are digging hard into his ass as you pull him towards you, wanting to take him in as deep as is physically possible. Your hips jerk towards him, head lifting, body curling around his as you come. His hips have lost their rhythm; their movements becoming erratic. Rupert moans and you feel him spill inside you before you've calmed.
He slides his mouth lazily across your own. Your tongues no longer duel for supremacy; soothing each other instead. Rupert breaks the kiss and looks deeply into your eyes. His thumb rises to stroke your cheek. He carefully pulls out of you, smiling somewhat smugly as you whimper at the loss. He rolls onto his back and pulls you across his chest. You shiver a little as the air hits your back; no longer shielded by Rupert's warmth.
"Cold, Love?" he asks sleepily.
"Mmm," you answer.
"We'll go to bed in a moment."
"Mmm," you agree, knowing full well that you won't. Rupert's breathing has evened into a pattern that you know means he's asleep. You're too exhausted to even tilt your head to see if his eyes are closed. You blink drowsily, knowing that in the morning you will wake in Rupert's arms; freezing cold from having no blanket, sore from everything the night before and stiff from sleeping on the floor. God only knows what might get in through the half-demolished barely-shut front door. You'll probably open your eyes to find Buffy, Willow and Xander standing over you, gawking at the lurid tangle of naked Watcher, well-fucked girlfriend and ruined clothing before them.
Even at this thought, your eyes drift shut. Your head rises and falls with the steady breathing of Rupert's chest beneath your cheek. You know that whatever happens when you wake, you'll still be as happy as you are now because Rupert Giles is alive.
END
Author: GylzGirl
Written for: summer_of_giles 2009
Beta: The Awesome lauratew. Any remaining mistakes are my fault.
Rated: Fan Rated ADULTS ONLY
Alive
You're pacing the floor of Rupert Giles's living room. You cast your eyes toward the bathroom. You should go take a shower, you think. You know you must look a fright; torn clothes, sweat and streaks of graveyard dirt covering your skin. You've been fussing with your hair in your nervousness so you're sure that must look quite becoming by now as well.
You shake your head, banishing the thought. No, you can't leave the room. This is where Rupert would expect you to be. When he comes home (not if, you remind yourself, when), if he doesn't see you immediately, he might go back out into the night to look for you. No. No. You have to stay here.
You force yourself to sit on the couch and hope that you'll make it more than five minutes this time. Your eyes dart to the loft. It was only two hours ago that the pair of you were snuggled up together; warm, safe, bare and asleep. The ring of the phone ripped you both from your slumber. A cell call from Buffy that went dead halfway through pulled Rupert from the bed. As he dressed, so did you, ignoring his protests that you wait for him here.
You stand, once more treading that familiar path; banister, window, kitchen phone, door...
The night is uncharacteristically quiet, almost as if it holds its breath with you. An hour ago, the air was filled with the sounds of battle; grunts and screams and the scrape of metal meeting an equal blade. There were so many opponents, you were all matched in single combat; no one able to assist anyone else. The fight began to move you all away from each other. Buffy to the north towards Waverly Park. Willow east towards the Bronze. Xander west near the High School. Giles south to the Espresso Pump. Yourself pinned down in the middle of Restfield cemetery, watching helplessly as your allies and your lover were forced to abandon your survival to your own fighting skills as they each tried to keep themselves alive. Rupert's expression was the most pained as he faded from sight. You didn't have the opportunity at the time to dwell on it for long as you battled to slay the demon that had similar plans for you.
You've more than dwelt on it since you ran through the front door though. Rupert dead was unthinkable. Rupert dying alone and believing he'd left you to die... You eye the bathroom again wondering if you could make it there before you throw up.
Suddenly, the still night is rent with the sound of the door being kicked open and nearly off its hinges. You spin, heart hammering, mentally trying to remember the combination to the weapons chest and find Rupert Giles. He stands there, framed by the doorway, scanning the room until his eyes land on you. Instead of showing any obvious signs of relaxing, he kicks the door shut behind himself and stalks towards you. His eyes are dark and furious. You gulp and begin to shake a little. Out of instinct, you back up from his charging advance until your back hits the wall behind you. In a flash, he is right before you. He slams his palms against the wall to either side of your head making you jump in fright. You gasp and he seizes his opportunity, swooping for your mouth and taking it in a hard kiss.
After a few moments of bruising bussing, he pulls back taking a little nip at your bottom lip. You whimper at the quick flash of pain and your trembling becomes more severe. Rupert's eyes sweep the entire length of your body and seem to note every black smudge of dirt and each red angry scratch or scrape. The air goes out of his lungs and he presses to your front, his chin on your shoulder. This close, you can feel that he is shaking too.
"Oh, God," he exhales as his hands slide down the wall and his arms wrap around you. "Oh, God, I could have lost you tonight."
"You didn't," you say quietly, redundantly; embracing him as you realize his fury is not at you but at thinking you might have died. "I'm here," you whisper in his ear before your tongue slips out to flick at his lobe.
The effect is immediate as his hips thrust forward, an already prominent bulge in his trousers pressing at your heat, frustrated only by the layers of clothes between. Your lips part slightly and once more you find Rupert's mouth covering yours, his tongue invading and making your knees want to buckle.
He pulls back suddenly and, before you know what is happening, he clutches at the front of your shirt and rips it open sending buttons spraying the room. Your eyes widen in surprise. You knew the shirt was pretty much a goner with all the rips and bloodstains of the battle but you hadn't exactly expected it to wind up in two halves at your feet on the floor. While you're looking down, you notice that one of your bra straps has torn away. Things don't look good for that garment either.
Rupert's hand is warm; fingers scratchy and callused from wielding a mace earlier that evening. They scrape pleasantly against your back as he deftly unfastens your bra and sends it to join the pile on the floor. You only just manage to roughly shove his jacket to the ground and start on the buttons of his shirt before his mouth is on your breast; his tongue hot and wet as it paints zig zags on your areola. Your back arches, hands leaving his shirt front to grip behind his shoulders and hold yourself upright. Your head presses against the wall. The sounds coming from your mouth so unbelievably feline that you know Rupert will tease you about them in the morning.
His fingers tickle at the skin near your bellybutton as he tries to undo your jeans without benefit of looking. Soon enough, you hear the pop of the snap and the unmistakable ripple of the zipper being lowered. Rupert's mouth switches breasts as his hands insinuate themselves on your hips, sliding down your body underneath both your jeans and panties. With a sharp thrust of his wrists, he sends them pooling at your feet.
The cool night air catches the superheated wetness between your legs causing you to gasp at the sensation and grip Rupert closer to cover you. He moves his arms to brace your back and turns with you. Your feet twist and tangle in the clothing around your ankles and for a moment you feel like you are floating as Rupert's deceptively strong arms lower you slowly and gently to the floor. The hardwood is cold against your bare back. Your arms beckon up to him as he rises to his feet, looming over you. He begins to remove his clothing.
His shirt flutters away behind him. The practical white tank beneath yanked up and away next. His bare chest rises and falls in that deep slow pattern that you've come to associate with his arousal. As Rupert's hand moves to unfasten his fly, your thighs squeeze together to relieve some of the aching throb you feel. You pinch your bottom lip between your teeth as he shucks both trousers and boxers and his impressive cock springs free. It arches against his abdomen, curving slightly left. You exhale shakily as your own hands slide between your legs.
Rupert crouches at your feet, unwrapping them from the clothing imprisoning your ankles. He holds your heels, spreading your legs wide. You bend your knees as Rupert places your feet on the floor, positioning you exactly the way he wants you. He eases forward onto his knees and crawls toward you. His hands grasp at the back of your thighs as he lowers his face to your sex and begins to lap slowly. Your back arches off the floor though his grip keeps your hips firmly pinned down as the tip of his tongue swirls across your aching clit.
A moan leaves your throat so forcefully that you feel its burning wake and wonder if you will be hoarse tomorrow. Your hands move into your hair as your head thrashes against the sensations. Your muscles are coiling tighter as each stroke of his tongue brings you closer to release. Your thighs begin to tremble, your feet plant even more firmly into the floor; the curve of your back steepening as you scream and come hard.
Your breathing is ragged and audible as your sated body slowly lowers itself down. You can feel the start of finger-shaped bruises on your hips from Rupert restraining you. The sting is not unpleasant you think lazily, still drifting in a post-euphoric mental cloud.
You distantly become aware of Rupert's mouth kissing along one inner thigh towards the knee and then repeating the process on the other leg. Soon, you feel the weight of him settle over you; his body a flash-fire everywhere it touches yours. The hair on his chest scratches agreeably across your breasts. His kisses are warm on your neck. His hand slips between you as he guides himself to your entrance. The head has barely prodded through when he stills. You whimper in impatience and feel him smile against your skin. His arms come under you, skimming across your bare back. He hooks his hands over your shoulders from underneath. One terrifyingly exciting word echoes throughout your whole being: Leverage.
Rupert's fingers tighten against you a fraction of a second before he uses his grip to pull you onto his cock as hard as he can while he thrusts forward with equal intensity. You scream again, the sensation of him so deep inside so soon after your first orgasm pulling you into a second.
Rupert stills again as your inner thighs slide against his outer ones and rest along the swell of his ass. You slip your hands down his back and over his cheeks, gripping tightly and hanging on for the ride. You kiss and nip at the underside of his chin until his hips begin to move once more. He establishes this deep slow rhythm for what seems like ages. Your head lolls back, completely lost to the feel of him. You would probably be embarrassed at the helpless desperate whimpers you produce if you could remember what being embarrassed was. Right now, the whole world is that agonizing wonderful feeling of Rupert moving within you.
His mouth is at your ear, grunting; harsh, masculine, animal reverberations. Your lips brush his triceps and latch on, tongue lapping at the sweat-salty skin there. It sharpens and quickens his thrusts. You begin to feel that familiar tightening around his cock and the flutter of anticipation in your stomach; moaning as Rupert pushes you closer, closer.
Your fingers are digging hard into his ass as you pull him towards you, wanting to take him in as deep as is physically possible. Your hips jerk towards him, head lifting, body curling around his as you come. His hips have lost their rhythm; their movements becoming erratic. Rupert moans and you feel him spill inside you before you've calmed.
He slides his mouth lazily across your own. Your tongues no longer duel for supremacy; soothing each other instead. Rupert breaks the kiss and looks deeply into your eyes. His thumb rises to stroke your cheek. He carefully pulls out of you, smiling somewhat smugly as you whimper at the loss. He rolls onto his back and pulls you across his chest. You shiver a little as the air hits your back; no longer shielded by Rupert's warmth.
"Cold, Love?" he asks sleepily.
"Mmm," you answer.
"We'll go to bed in a moment."
"Mmm," you agree, knowing full well that you won't. Rupert's breathing has evened into a pattern that you know means he's asleep. You're too exhausted to even tilt your head to see if his eyes are closed. You blink drowsily, knowing that in the morning you will wake in Rupert's arms; freezing cold from having no blanket, sore from everything the night before and stiff from sleeping on the floor. God only knows what might get in through the half-demolished barely-shut front door. You'll probably open your eyes to find Buffy, Willow and Xander standing over you, gawking at the lurid tangle of naked Watcher, well-fucked girlfriend and ruined clothing before them.
Even at this thought, your eyes drift shut. Your head rises and falls with the steady breathing of Rupert's chest beneath your cheek. You know that whatever happens when you wake, you'll still be as happy as you are now because Rupert Giles is alive.
END